On the third day, we reached the banks of the Blue Nile, and saw Sennar in the distance; the Khalifa had issued strict orders that we should on no account proceed to this city, which was now lying half ruined, and which, as it had held out until after the Mahdi's death, the Khalifa said, would bring us no luck. We found several boats in readiness, and in them crossed the Blue Nile, which is here about four hundred yards broad; but this operation took us several days. Just north of Wad el Abbas, there is a strip of high sandy ground; and this was selected as the position of the camp, because the land in the vicinity is low-lying, and unfit for habitation during the rainy season. All my thoughts were now bent on flight; but, as most of the people entirely sympathised with the Khalifa's government, it required the greatest care on my part to select any one in whom to place confidence. Very soon after our arrival at Wad el Abbas, I received a letter from the Khalifa, which ran as follows:—
"In the name of God, the All-bountiful and Merciful, from the noble Sayed Abdullahi Ibn Sayed Mahmud, by the grace of God, Khalifat el Mahdi, on whom be peace, to our brother in God, Abdel Kader Saladin.
"After this greeting of peace, this is to inform you that I have not received any letter from you since your departure; but I hope that, by the grace of God, you are in good health. You know my instructions, and you have drunk from the river of my eloquence; I have urged you to remain faithful, and I know that you will uphold your promise. This day, I received a letter from one of the Mahdi's friends, who tells me that your wife, coming from the land of the unbelievers, has reached Korosko, and is at this moment endeavouring to bribe people to induce them to fly with you, in order to bring you to her; and I have been told that you know all about this. I therefore again urge you to adhere steadfastly to the faith of the Prophet, and to perform with honesty the duties upon which you have entered; but I wish to add that no doubt has entered into my heart of your fidelity. I only wish you peace, and I greet you."
At the same time, a letter arrived for Yunes to the effect—so his secretary told me in confidence—that news had come from Berber, and that a very strict watch was to be kept over me. Under these circumstances, I could not conceive why the Khalifa had written to me. Yunes did not tell me that he had received these instructions, and, outwardly, was more friendly than ever with me; but I was guarded very closely both by day and night, and when, a few days later, some hundreds of the Gimeh Arabs were, in accordance with the Khalifa's orders, embarked on a steamer to proceed to Omdurman, Yunes instructed me to return with them in order, he said, to give the Khalifa a verbal account of the situation. I perfectly understood what was meant, and realised that he wished to avoid the responsibility of having me with him.
When all the people were embarked, I went to say good-bye to Yunes, who gave me orders to inform the Khalifa on a number of points. I said that when this duty was over, I presumed I should return to him, to which he replied, "Perhaps you wish to remain with our master the Khalifa, or possibly he may require your presence in Omdurman. Had I better send the horse I gave you after you, or shall I keep it here?" I assured him that I looked upon the horse as his, and not mine; for I was well aware that once back in Omdurman, I should again have to walk barefoot. As a token of his friendship, Yunes gave me a hundred hides, and a letter of recommendation to the Khalifa. The second day after leaving Wad el Abbas, I reached Omdurman, handed over the Gimeh under my charge to Yakub, and was then received by the Khalifa. He affected great surprise at seeing me, saying that he thought I should have some difficulty in leaving Yunes even for an hour. These were of course mere empty words; for I knew perfectly well that this was a plan arranged between them to get me back without my suspecting it. Meanwhile, he gave me permission to go and visit my household, after which I was to return to him for further orders.
In the evening, we were once more alone, and he began to talk of the letter which had come from Berber. I assured him that if the letter had really come, it must have been written with an intention to do me harm, or that there was some mistake; and, in proof of this, I told him that I had never been married, and that, in consequence, there could be no pining wife to come and look for me. Should any one, however, come to Omdurman and try to induce me to fly, my first step would be at once to inform the Khalifa. He assured me that he did not believe the rumour, and then asked me if I preferred to stay with him or return to Yunes. Guessing his intention, I told him that nothing in the world would induce me to leave him again, and that I considered the time spent with him as the happiest in my life. Although pleased at my flattering words, he took occasion to remind me, in a very serious tone of voice, to be faithful and true, and to have nothing whatever to do with people other than his own household; and he then ordered me to take my place as usual before the gate.
On withdrawing from his presence, and thinking the matter over, I had no doubt now that his suspicions against me had not only taken root, but had begun to grow.
At this time the force in El Obeid included about two hundred Blacks, mostly old soldiers, whose numbers had been increased by the arrival of a portion of the former garrison of Dara. Many of them were inhabitants of Jebel Daïr, who were in constant enmity with the Mahdists, and who had been captured by them and utilised as slaves to build their huts. Indignant at this treatment, they resolved to regain freedom by force. Fadl el Maula Bekhit, one of my servants who had been detained in El Obeid, and Beshir, a former lieutenant, were the ringleaders of this conspiracy; and it is always a wonder to me that the Mahdists did not succeed in discovering the plot. Sayed Mahmud, it will be remembered, had been summoned to Omdurman; and the mutineers now thought the favourable moment had arrived to put their plans into execution. Suddenly, at midday, the inhabitants of El Obeid were startled by the firing of rifles; the soldiers had seized the isolated building which was used as a storehouse for the arms and ammunition, and were firing on the Dervishes, who had attacked them in this position. The latter were driven back; and the former then succeeded in collecting their wives and children. The Dervishes, having only a few fire-arms, had retreated to the Government buildings, and had barricaded the doors. The soldiers, encouraged by their success, now attempted to take these buildings by storm; but were forced to retire. In this attack, Abder Rahman el Borusi, formerly one of my best and bravest subalterns, was killed; while the Dervishes lost Abdel Hashmi, Sayed Mahmud's representative, who was greatly detested by the soldiers on account of his overbearing ways. If the soldiers had only had a good leader, El Obeid would certainly have fallen into their hands; but, under the circumstances, they had no special desire to take this post, and were merely bent on regaining their freedom. That night they spent in the powder magazine, where they were joined by quantities of male and female slaves, who took this opportunity to run away from their masters. Early the next morning, the inhabitants and the Dervishes attempted an attack on the soldiers, but were utterly defeated, and lost a large number in killed and wounded. The soldiers, longing for freedom, now left El Obeid, and marched in a southerly direction towards the Nuba mountains; but, before leaving, they plundered a number of houses, and, seizing the women they found there, made them their slaves. The Dervishes now attempted to pursue them; but the soldiers, elated by their freedom, again utterly routed them. Unfortunately, the Emir of the soldiers, a certain Wad Abdulla, a native of Wad Medina, and who had also been one of my officers at Dara, knew of the plot, but did not join in time, fearing it might fail; he was now seized by the Gellabas, and, in spite of his innocence, was beheaded.
The news of this mutiny was at once sent to Sayed Mahmud in Omdurman; and the Khalifa, no longer requiring his services there, permitted him to return to El Obeid, with instructions to come back as soon as possible to Omdurman with his family, and with all the other relatives of the late Mahdi, but forbade him to pursue the mutineers. When, however, he arrived at El Obeid, moved either by feelings of revenge, or thinking perhaps that by killing the mutineers he should obtain favour, he disregarded the Khalifa's orders, and, collecting all the able-bodied inhabitants of the town and neighbourhood, advanced against the soldiers. The latter had taken up a strong position in the Golfan and Naïma hills, and had established there a sort of military republic, nominating as their chief Beshir, who was formerly a sergeant. He gave careful instructions that the ammunition was not to be wasted; and he forbade the mention of the name of the Mahdi under pain of punishment. They acknowledged the Khedive as their master, and swore in his name; and the neighbourhood supplied them with abundant food.
Sayed Mahmud, on his arrival at El Obeid, had despatched secret agents to assure the mutineers that he loved them as his own children, and that he would give them a full and free pardon should they submit to him. The soldiers jeeringly replied, that he should first of all convince himself of their affection for him. Thereupon, Mahmud resolved to storm the mountain, and, carrying his own banner at the head of his troops, he was shot dead while leading the assault. Several of his adherents who attempted to recover his body met with a like fate, whilst the remainder of his following dispersed, and fled in all directions, pursued by the Nuba mountaineers, who inflicted heavy loss on them.